


tardy to the party

by allfleshisgrass, blueandbrady



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfleshisgrass/pseuds/allfleshisgrass, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueandbrady/pseuds/blueandbrady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being on tour for months means Harry has not blown Nick in months. Whatever party Nick is taking him to can just wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tardy to the party

**Author's Note:**

> Super big thanks to [ blueandbrady ]() for not only writing half of this but also for editing and whinging with me when it came down to a title and summary.

"Do we have time?" Harry asks, mouth against Nick's neck. Nick tastes the same as always, the same familiar salt and cologne combination, and when Nick speaks, Harry feels it against his lips. He grins. 

"No," Nick says, voice thick and rough. "Mustn't be late, Harold." Harry waits, but he’s not pushed away. Instead hands move over Harry's shoulders and down his arms, and Harry tries again. 

"What if I said we wouldn't be?" Harry bites gently, expects Nick's soft 'tch.' He laughs and grips onto Harry's wrists, lets himself be kissed.   
Harry doesn't let him get a word out. If Nick starts talking, he'll succeed in talking Harry out of this, and Harry doesn’t want that. Harry doesn't want to stop. He wants to take as much of Nick's mouth as he can. 

He wants to make up for how long they've been apart. 

When he has to pull back, he can hardly breathe. His lungs burn with want. 

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Nick breathes out, lips wet, eyes watching him. "Well, on with it, then.” Nick threads their legs together, presses himself to Harry, and Harry ruts against him, already hard and straining for more. Harry groans and Nick shushes him. “Mind your mouth,” he says, and nods towards the door. “Collette.” 

Fuck. Harry forgot about Collette. He draws in a breath through his nose and nods. He hooks his fingers into the loops of Nick's jeans and pulls him toward the bed. 

"Don't you dare mess up my hair," Nick says when Harry reaches his hand up. He freezes, fingers seconds away from plunging in, and tries to look properly chastised. He drops his hands to Nick’s shoulders instead. “Mhm. Better.” 

"Trust me," Harry says, raising an eyebrow. He presses his foot to the back of Nick's knee and drops down onto the bed, Nick falling on top of him. "Trust me," Harry repeats, eyes bright. He knows he’s supposed to be quick about this, but he’s got Nick under his hands after ages of not and he can’t help it. 

Nick raises a brow in return, and then rolls his eyes as Harry snakes a hand up to Nick's neck, pulling their mouths together. Nick jerks his hips, fitting himself against Harry and obviously trying to move things along. Harry bites at Nick's bottom lip, and then sucks it into his mouth, pulls on it with his teeth. Nick hits him on the shoulder. "Heyyy." 

"You're going to get me in trouble being all bitey, Styles." Harry grins at that and bucks his hips. Nick is as hard as he is. 

"I'll make it up t'you,” Harry says, beckoning Nick back. He kisses him softly, a slight peck against Nick's bruised bottom lip, and Nick sags against him, kind of a sucker for sweet kisses. It's something that Harry really likes about him. He uses that to roll them over and get his hands on the zip to Nick’s jeans, kisses him in the same soft way as he lowers it. He gives Nick's lip another tug and then is on his knees, looking up. He takes in Nick’s lidded eyes and heavy breathing, and pushes into the hand Nick uses to brush hair away from his face. Nick watches him until Harry taps his hip, signalling for him to lift up so he can pull Nick’s jeans off. 

"This is the opposite of getting ready," Nick says, lying back and pretending to be grumpy, like he's not about to get his dick sucked. Harry rolls his eyes to himself and pulls Nick's pants down as well, watching Nick's cock pop out. "Well," Nick says in that exasperated way that says he's waiting. God, Harry’s missed this while gone. He misses a lot of things. He doesn't want to miss anything else. He curls his hand around Nick and brings him closer to his mouth. 

All of Nick tastes the same, Harry thinks, his mouth wrapping around him and sucking. Nick makes a low noise and shifts his hips, already antsy. Harry loves it. He rubs at Nick’s protruding hipbones and sucks as long as he can before his legs start to hurt in the half crouch he's in. He lets Nick pop out of his mouth, hand taking over for a second before pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. Nick lets out an "oof," his cock jumping as Harry reaches for it again. He thinks maybe Nick likes being dragged about. He’ll explore it later when there’s more time. 

Nick's legs widen as Harry jerks his cock and sucks him back in at the same time. He drags his tongue across his slit and Nick's whole body shivers. "Fuck," Nick bites out, and puts a hand on Harry's head, thrusting into Harry's mouth, making the bed bounce. Harry lets him until he gags and has to pull back. "Sorry," Nick says weakly, "Sorry," 

"S'okay." Harry coughs, trying to catch his breath. He squeezes the base of Nick's cock firmly, making Nick wheeze, and sucks him back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head. It’s not long before Nick is trying to fuck his mouth again. Again Harry lets him as long as he can, trying not to gag and trying to keep hold. He takes in deep breaths through his nose, that sweat and dick scent burning. It’s too much, Harry groans and drops a hand to his own dick, palming at himself through his jeans. 

“Harry, Harry,” Nick breathes as Harry pulls back. “Oh god.” 

"Shh," Harry says, gulping down air while he can. He licks around the head, hand firm around the base. "Collette." 

Nick groans, quieter this time. "Please don't say her name around my dick."

Everything Harry wants to say is unwitty and lame and he's never a match for Nick anyway, let alone with his mind as muddled as it is now, so instead Harry tries again. They’re running out of time, have probably already ran out of time. He sucks Nick's cock back in, and swallows him down as far as he can, slow and steady and determined. Nick groans, hand flying up to his mouth so he can bite on it, and that encourages Harry more, lets him relax as Nick hits the back of his throat. 

"Oh god, Harry, fuck, Christ, why," Nick babbles around his hand, and Harry would smile if he could do more than focus on breathing. He pulls back, then slides down just as slowly again until Nick's breath sounds like sobs. "Gonna, gonna... Gonna die, bye."

Nick's come floods Harry's mouth, hot and bitter and so much that he has to pull off, tries to cough discreetly to the side. He’s stupidly pleased with himself. 

"You are the worst, the absolute worst, _get up here_ ," Nick says, pulling Harry into his lap. Harry tries to keep himself from laughing too loudly. “Shut it.” 

It's an awkward angle, and Harry has to brace himself on his hands on either side of Nick's head so he doesn't fall on him as Nick yanks open Harry’s jeans and pulls his cock out. Harry can’t help but concentrate on the blur that is Nick's hand. He's already so close and has been leaking since the first time Nick hit the back of his throat that Nick's hand flies over him easily, jerking him forward and knocking breathy grunts out of him. 

"You said we wouldn't be late," Nick says, mouthing at Harry’s jaw. 

Harry nods and replies, groaning, "Yeah, who-oops." Nick isn't taking it easy. Harry likes it. 

"Also Collette has probably heard your big mouth," Nick chides, hand slowing. 

Harry whines, thrusting into Nick's hand. "Yours too."

"Maybe," Nick says. He starts to rub his thumb in circles around the head and Harry gasps, then whines again. Nick laughs. 

"Don't laugh at me,” Harry says a little seriously, he’s so close now with Nick’s long fingers wrapped around his cock. “You’re so mean,” Harry breathes, thrusting his hips forward. Nick snorts at his ‘mean’ comment and twists his wrist, jerks Harry hard. Harry gasps. 

"And you're a brat. I think we're even." Nick picks his head up, drags his teeth over where Harry's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps down air, and that’s it. Harry's coming, spurting into Nick's hand and splashing up onto his own shirt. 

Nick keeps stroking him, slows down but doesn't stop until Harry forcefully shoves him away and flops onto the bed beside him. "Oh my god." Harry pants, catching his breath. 

"We are so late it isn't even funny, Harold," Nick says, already sitting up. "And you have come on your shirt. You make quite a picture right now." Nick tuts while quickly reaching for a tissue and cleaning himself off. 

He complains about how awful Harry is while picking his pants and jeans up from the floor and complains some more while deftly tucking himself back in, and he complains again when he sees Harry still lying on the bed. Harry grins at him, raising up on his elbows. Nick plants a hand on his hip and quirks an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” Harry says slowly, fully sitting up. “Okay, so can I borrow a shirt?”


End file.
